


The Jacket

by Applesandbannas747



Category: Septimus Heap - Angie Sage
Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9891155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Applesandbannas747/pseuds/Applesandbannas747
Summary: Septimus wears Beetle's old Admiral's jacket to keep warm. Feelings happen.





	1. Beetle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy so I'm trash and accidentally fell in love with this ship???? Anyway, it's late and I'm too lazy to get a betareader so please be patient with typos/errors. Shout out to theplasticmailman.tumblr.com for A) talking to me about this ship because it's a very lonely boat and B) giving me the idea to have Sep wear the admiral's jacket

It had been easy enough to ignore, really. In fact, it could hardly be called _ignoring;_ can you really ignore something that remains, essentially, unknown? 

O. Beetle Beetle answered the urgent knocking at his door with mild annoyance. It was late and raining heavily— which were the perfect conditions for unwinding with a cup of tea and some old spell books. Alone. So he was none too pleased to greet a guest. Likely an over anxious customer from the Manuscriptorium who had business so urgent it warranted tracking him down. All his exasperation, however, disappeared when he opened the door and found himself face to face with a soaking wet and miserable-looking Septimus Heap.

“Well, get in here,” he urged at once, stepping aside to let his best friend in. 

“Thanks, Beetle. Nightmare of a storm out there, didn’t much fancy getting back to the Tower.”

“I can see why,” Beetle examined Septimus and shook his head. “What were you doing so far out this late, anyway?”

“Wizard business.” Septimus said, which could mean he was out on official Wizard Tower business, or it could just mean he was meeting up with a girl at Gothik Grotto. 

“I was just making some tea, I’ll make a cup for you too. Go find something to change into; you’re soaked to the bone.”

“Thanks a million,” Septimus grinned, heading for the stairs to Beetle’s room. “But I’d rather have a FizzFroot, if you’ve got any.”

“You know I do,” Beetle called after him, “But you’ll have tea first. Both your mums will have my head if you get rain sickness.”

“Beetle, don’t you start mothering me too!” Septimus’s reply came from the bedroom. 

“And grab a towel for your hair while you’re up there!” 

Beetle set the tea out at his small dining table and grabbed some biscuits for good measure. He settled down at the table with his spell book, figuring Septimus would take his time, as he usually did. He’d made a sizable dent in the book before Septimus reappeared.

“Bringing your work home with you?” Septimus teased, clunking back down the stairs. He’d found some plain black trousers, a white shirt, and, to Beetle’s surprise, his old admiral’s jacket. To top the strange ensemble off, he’d pulled his unruly hair into an unruly bun. “What’re you staring at?” Septimus asked, though the humor in his voice suggested that he knew exactly how unusual he looked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in casual clothes, Sep.”

“Not sure I own casual clothes. Feels a little weird not being in robes.” 

“It’s not a bad look for you,” Beetle mused. He got a raised eyebrow in response. “Now drink your tea before it gets cold.” Septimus obliged, sitting across from Beetle and sipping at his tea. Beetle put his book aside and gave his full attention to his own cup. As he drank he kept finding his eyes wondering to Septimus. To Septimus wearing his jacket. 

“My clothes are dripping wet. I’ve dropped them in the bath for now. It’s been ages since I got that soaked.”

“You’d best stay here tonight. No point getting dry just to go back out there.”

“You’re the best Beetle,” Septimus grinned. “Really, truly, the best.” 

“Sure, anytime,” Beetle mumbled, feeling an all too familiar flush creep up his neck. He stood hastily and went to the kitchen to busy himself with FizzFroot making. As he mixed their drinks, again his eyes kept returning to Septimus. He couldn’t name the sensation he felt when he saw Septimus sitting there, at his table, wearing his clothes, his _favorite jacket,_ with his hair haphazardly pulled into a bun. All he knew was that it flustered him. Greatly. 

He returned with drinks in hand, sliding a bright green and frothing glass in front of Septimus.

“Lime, mint, and seaweed.” He listed the main ingredients for Septimus. “It’s their newest flavor. I think it sounds repulsive, but it made me think of you so I had to get it.”

“Repulsive? Me? Thanks,” Septimus laughed and Beetle joined.

“You know what I mean. Your tastebuds are all screwy.” Beetle took his own light blue drink to his seat and took a swig. Blueberry and raspberry, one of his favorites. 

“You’re not even going to try it?” Septimus asked, gesturing to the green monstrosity. 

“Why would I?” Beetle grimaced as Septimus took a drink.

“C’mon, you might like. It’s actually not bad.” 

“I don’t trust you when it comes to food, Sep. Learned that lesson the hard way.”

“Well this isn’t food, so you can trust me.”

“No, I can’t,” Beetle laughed, holding out his hand. “But I guess I’m dumb enough to try it anyway.” Septimus passed him the mug, and Beetle was hyperaware of the way their fingers brushed during the exchange. He tentatively raised the glass to his lips and took the smallest sip he could manage. He still nearly spit it out. Septimus burst out laughing as Beetle shoved the offending drink back into his hands. 

“Well _I_ like it.” 

“I’m glad. That’s why I got it.” 

“Thanks,” Septimus said, sounding genuinely touched. Beetle’s ears heated. 

“Yeah, ‘course.” He tried to shrug off the embarrassment. It was abnormal for him to feel awkward around Sep. And tonight he’d been out of sorts. All because Septimus was wearing his jacket. It looked good on him, Beetle though idly. The whole look, strange as it was for Septimus to wear, looked good. From the casual pants to the loose shirt to the navy and gold jacket to the messy bun. 

_Oh._

It fell into place, then. He was attracted to Septimus Heap. He very much liked the idea— the reality— of Septimus in his clothes looking informal and haphazard. He had though he’d left his flustered embarrassment in the past, back when he was in love with Jenna. Apparently, Septimus had brought it back. 

“You blasted Heaps,” Beetle groaned. 

“Watch it, you sound like Gringe,” Septimus warned, amusement in his green eyes. “What’d we do this time?”

“Existed.” Septimus laughed at that. Beetle considered his friend, wondering how long he’d been falling for him. Since he and Jenna broke up last Spring? Since before then? He wondered how he’d missed it. It was obvious, in retrospect. He’d attributed the jealousy he felt for Septimus’s fleeting attractions as the residuals left over from his old inferiority complex and envy wrought days. He’d passed everything else off as friendship. Like how he’d rather spend time with Sep than anyone. How fighting with Septimus was always terrible. How he loved to make Septimus laugh, smile, and, on occasion, spit Fizzfroot out his nose.

As they cleared their cups to the sink, Beetle considered how to deal with his newly discovered feelings. He let out a sigh, “Sep, you take the bed. I don’t reckon I’ll get much sleep tonight anyway, so I might as well try the couch.”


	2. Septimus

Septimus slept well. Not that he was a picky sleeper; growing up in The Young Army had given him the ability to sleep just about anywhere. A bed that’s little more than a wooden frame and a blanket, a nice patch of grass, under a pile of leaves, up in a tree, if it was physically possible to sleep somewhere, he could. The thing was that he was a light sleeper, for much the same reason he was able to fall asleep anywhere. Do-or-Dies had drilled the importance of being able to wake up and be ready to go at the drop of a pin. Wolverines, witches, carnivorous trees, anything and everything could be lurking in the dark ready to snatch you once sleep marks you an easy target. Even after years of safety he woke easily in unfamiliar places. He didn’t wake even once during his stay at Beetle’s, which was a pleasant surprise considering he only ever got a full night’s sleep in his own bed in the Wizard Tower. But apparently Beetle’s lingering presence— in the tidy clutter, the parchment and wax scent, the navy blue colors, the very _feel_ of the room— had convinced Septimus’s subconscious that he was as safe here as he was in his own room. 

Septimus shrugged back into Beetle’s jacket and tugged on his own well loved boots, which Marcia nagged him about replacing every time she visited, and made his way to the kitchen where he found a rather frazzled Beetle.

“What’s the matter?” Septimus inquired. “Lose something?”

“What? Oh, no, I was just…” Beetle gestured around himself vaguely which was no help at all in conveying his meaning. “Thinking.”

“Did you think all night? You look tired.”

“I may have,” Beetle rubbed at the back of his neck which was a dead give away that he was stressed.

“You sit down, I’ll make some toast.” Septimus shooed Beetle towards the table.

“Don’t put anything weird on it,” Beetle warned him as he retreated into the kitchen.

“What qualifies as weird?” Septimus asked as he rifled through the cupboards, already getting an idea for an excellent toast topper.

“No fish and no cabbage.”

Septimus grinned. He could work within those restrictions. 

“Oh jeez, Sep, what did you put on this? It looks like cat barf.”

“Don’t be rude. It’s pumpkin and oatmeal. It’s good, really. Just try it,” Septimus laughed as he sat down.

“You know this is exactly what I asked you _not_ to do, right?”

“No fish and no cabbage, this is exactly what you asked for.”

“I know you do this on purpose, you know what normal people consider gross and you make it just for a laugh.” Beetle accused, though his eyes were now filled with amusement rather than worry. Septimus shrugged, taking a bite out of his own toast. He was pleased with the result, and he hardly thought it was _that_ weird. But, yes, he knew perfectly well that Beetle had really meant he wanted butter or jam.

“C’mon Beetle, give it a try. You might like it.” Septimus lightly kicked Beetle under the table and laughed at the returned scowl.

“Alright, fine, but only because I love you. Because I know I won’t like it,” he grumbled as he raised the toast to his mouth and took a bite. Then his face went red and he started coughing.

“Oh that’s a bit melodramatic, don’t you think? No way it’s that bad,” Septimus teased, then realized that the coughing wasn’t lightening up. “Beetle? Are you okay?” Septimus was standing up, sure that Beetle was chocking when Beetle waved his hand.

“I’m fine,” he said, gulping down air. Septimus regarded him skeptically. “Really, I am.” But his face was still red and his breathing too panicky for Septimus to really believe him.

“If you’d chocked and died because of my toast, I’d never forgive you. I think that’d count as murder or something.” Septimus tried to convince his own heart-rate to steady, but the scare, short-lived though it had been, refused to let go of him just yet.

“Sep, I love you.”

“What, for almost killing you and then making a bad joke?” Septimus laughed. Beetle just stared intently at him.

“No, I mean I think I’m…” he paused, but his gaze never wavered. Septimus felt like he was falling. “I’m in love with you, probably.” 

“Oh,” was all he could say. He felt his face become as red as Beetle’s as they stared at each other. The next thing that came out of his mouth was even less eloquent, “That’s why you chocked, not ‘cause my toast was terrible.”

“Your toast was terrible, too.” Beetle huffed a laugh, turning his eyes to the toast in question. Septimus watched as, despite his earlier claim, Beetle brought the toast to his mouth once again and took another bite. He didn’t even grimace as he chewed. 

Septimus was plummeting towards a ground he couldn’t see with no Flyte charm and no Spit Fyre to save him. His heart had seized up, his limbs felt tingly and loose, his head was light and dizzy. A rug had been pulled out from under him. Beetle, his best friend, the person he could always turn to was…in love with him? It didn’t make sense— he’d been in love with Jenna for as long as Septimus had known him. But they’d broken up. Maybe it did make sense, but Septimus couldn’t make sense of _it_. He’d never doubted that Beetle was always going to be his best friend. The revelation that his steadiest and most reliable relationship was changing forever was a free fall.

“D’you mind if I borrow your clothes? I forgot to use a drying spell on mine last night.” Septimus asked awkwardly, not wanting to bolt out of the house and ruin things with Beetle forever.

“Yeah, ‘course you can.”

“Thanks,” Septimus stood. “And, uh, thanks for everything. I should probably get back to the Tower, now.” And with that he made his exit. He was halfway home before realizing he’d left his robes at Beetle’s.


	3. Beetle

The pumpkin oatmeal toast was actually pretty good. Beetle finished his piece as he tried to collect himself. He’d debated all last night about whether or not to tell Septimus about his newfound feelings. Come morning he’d made no decision. He’d at least meant to tell Septimus in a dignified way, and maybe prepare him for it a little better. Precede his confession with the assurance that Septimus was his best friend and that he didn’t expect an answer, that nothing had to get weird. But it had slipped out, and instead of sweeping it under the rug he’d just got on with it. 

As he cleaned up he went back and forth between regretting his confession and being glad he’d said it. Septimus had seemed a little freaked, but he’d expected that. Now all he could do was give Septimus some space and wait for him to adjust. Hope that he’d adjust and that Beetle hadn’t just ruined everything. 

Beetle was not in great shape for work what with dealing with his newly discovered feelings for his best friend, his lack of sleep, and his worry over his confession. But he went anyway, hoping to distract himself.

By the time he got home he was too tired to worry about Septimus, though his heart did tighten when he saw the pile of still damp purple robes on the floor in his room. He wondered if he ought to return them or wait for Sep to come get them as he crawled beneath his covers. He was asleep before he’d reached a decision.

~oOo~

The week passed with little excitement. Life went on as usual, though Beetle didn’t see Septimus even once. It was always a lonely week when he and Septimus couldn’t work out a time to meet between their demanding schedules, but this week was worse. It wasn’t that they couldn’t make time, it was that they didn’t try. Septimus needed space, Beetle knew, but it was hard not to worry when the possibility that this could be the new normal loomed before him. What if Septimus couldn’t take Beetle’s feelings in stride? What if, by the time Beetle got over them and found someone else, it would be too late to return to what they’d been?

“You alright, Beetle?” Rose asked, falling into step beside him on their way to work.

“Yeah, just tired is all.” He gave her a smile.

“Really? You’ve looked awful for days. We’re worried for you.”

“Thanks, Rose, there’s just…a lot going on.”

“Does it have something to do with Septimus?” She asked, and Beetle stopped in his tracks, staring at her.

“How’d you know?” 

“Well,” She laughed, “for starters, there’s nothing that can get you as worked up as he can. He’s always a safe bet when you’re in a mood.” She bit her lip, looking at Beetle through her eyelashes, seeming nervous. “And, well, I saw him the other day. He was in a state too. Knew he must’ve just come from your place because he was wearing that jacket you used to love.”

“I still love that jacket,” Beetle protested, then felt his ears go red as he realized what Rose was saying. “But it’s not what you think, with Sep and me, I mean. We had a fight, but…”

“It’s okay, Beetle. I don’t care, I left Sep, remember? ’S not my place to get upset, you know?”

Beetle couldn’t even come up with a response before she’d hurried into the Manuscriptorium. Of course she’d get the wrong idea, seeing Sep in his favorite jacket. Who wouldn’t get that idea? If Septimus found out that Rose thought they were dating he’d be mortified. Beetle thought that Septimus had never really gotten over Rose leaving him. He’d never gotten serious about anyone since, preferring to leave his options open and eliminate the possibility of getting hurt again. Rose was the last person Septimus would want thinking there was something going on between them.

Beetle groaned, wishing that Septimus had never put on that stupid jacket. If it weren’t for that, none of this would have happened. Beetle could have gone ages without noticing his feelings, maybe even long enough for them to go away. But of course Sep had had to find that jacket. And of course he’d had to look perfect in it with his stupid bun and dimpled grin. 

Beetle really missed Septimus.


	4. Septimus

Septimus missed Beetle.

He wished he’d handled things better. He wished he’d told Beetle that he didn’t mind. He wished he’d stayed and talked about toast more. He wished he hadn’t left before talking things over. Because the longer he waited to sort things out the harder it got. He hadn’t really been avoiding Beetle, but he hadn’t gone over to visit him either. He didn’t know how to go about the whole thing. Should he go find Beetle and tell him that he still wanted to be friends or should he act like nothing had happened? 

The more he thought about it the muggier everything got. He knew that he had to go fix things soon or they’d be broken forever. He knew that Beetle must feel terrible, must think that Septimus hated him or something. He had to make sure things were okay. But it was easier said than done.

No one had ever confessed their love for him. He’d only had one real relationship and it had been a disaster. Everything else was a mutual appreciation, a ‘hey, you’re attractive, want to kiss?’ Not love. The idea that someone loved him was alarming on its own, even without the small detail that it was Beetle who love him. Love meant commitment, it meant investment of time and feelings, it meant a disaster waiting to happen. And the last thing Septimus wanted with Beetle was a disaster. 

“Sep, your shoes are on the wrong feet,” Jenna pointed out to him as they walked through the palace together.

“Oh, oops,” Septimus looked down and laughed at his own blunder. He was twenty-one and had put his boots on wrong. And he hadn’t even noticed. He kicked them off and sat down to try again.

“You could at least find a bench to do that,” Jen laughed, but sat beside him.

“Sorry, I guess I’ve been a bit out of it lately.”

“I’ve noticed.” She leaned her head against the wall and pulled her knees up to her chest. She was, Septimus knew, waiting for him to tell her _why_ he’d been out of it.

“Hey, Jen?”

“Hm?”

“Why’d you and Beetle break up?” She looked at him curiously. This was not what she’d expected to hear.

“We weren’t right for each other.”

“You seemed right for each other.”

“Yes, well, we weren’t as right as we seemed. It was good at first, but I…I wasn’t as in love with him as he was with me. He just — well, you know, he feels things so much deeper than most people do, I think. It’s hard to match his intensity. We both knew that our feelings were uneven but we didn’t do anything about it. I felt terrible, not being able to love him as much as he did me, and I somehow thought that continuing to date him would be nicer than ending things.”

“So what did you do?”

“Nothing. I do love Beetle, really. Being with him was…nice. He makes me laugh and it’s always a comfort to have him around. I didn’t really want to let someone else have him. But that’s not really romantic love. The longer we were together the more we drifted apart. He broke up with me, believe it or not.”

“Really?”

“He brought it up, anyway. We agreed we were better off just friends. That’s how I knew that he’d really fallen out of love with me. I got the feeling before then that his mind was somewhere else. Maybe that his heart was there too, with someone else. I hope that whoever it is he loves next can return his feeling better than I could.”

“Yeah,” Septimus said absently. Beetle had never really talked to him about Jenna. He’d always been a pretty private guy, and Septimus got the feeling that he’d figured Septimus wouldn’t want to hear anything about the romance between his sister and his best friend. He wondered if Beetle had needed someone to talk to about everything that had happened, though, and felt bad he hadn’t been there to listen.

“Why do you ask?” 

“Huh?”

“Why are you asking about me and Beetle?”

“I don’t know.”

“Hmm.” Jenna seemed unconvinced.

~oOo~

Septimus woke early the next morning to find himself practically frozen. He reached groggily for something to pull on over his night robe as he stepped out of his warm bed. He pulled on the jacket he’d grabbed and went about his morning routine. It wasn’t until he was dressing for the day that he realized he’d been wearing Beetle’s admiral’s jacket. He shrugged it off, feeling oddly guilty, and continued getting ready.

That night he found himself eyeing the jacket. He liked it a lot. It reminded him of Beetle and their adventures. And it was warm and comfortably worn in. He missed Beetle, though it was silly to miss him when he was the only reason they hadn’t seen each other all week. He picked up the jacket and regarded it. It was so entirely _Beetle_ that it made Septimus feel a little better. He traded in his purple robes for the jacket.

Before he knew it, Septimus had developed the habit of wearing the jacket around his rooms. He’d even fall asleep in it some nights. And it was on one of these nights that Marcia came in unannounced to find him sleeping on the couch curled in a blue jacket. 

“Septimus?” Marcia nudged him awake.

“Wha?” He sleepily sat up, trying to focus his eyes on the intruder. When he saw that it was Marcia his senses sharpened and all drowsiness fell away. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, nothing, don’t worry,” she smiled warmly at him, pushing his feet off the couch so she could sit beside him.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Marcia, but what are you doing here?”

“I’ve been told by three separate people that something’s the matter with you. They’re all quite worried about your well being.”

“Oh. Wait, who’s this?”

“Jenna, Todd, and Marwick. They say you’re distracted and irritable and nothing any of them say is getting anything out of you.”

“So they sent you.” Septimus said flatly, sitting up.

“Yes. I had my suspicions about what was wrong, and now that I’m here I’m just short of positive.”

“What’s wrong, then?” Septimus laughed. Marcia was always sure she knew everything.

“I take it that you’re confronting your feelings for Beetle.” She said bluntly. Septimus stared at her.

“I’m—what? Why would you think—?”

“Septimus, dear, you’re sleeping in Beetle’s favorite jacket. Jenna said you were asking about her break up with Beetle. Todd says you forgot about your meeting with Princess Driffa. Marwick tells me you’ve been avoiding Beetle.”

“I’m not avoiding him, I just…”

“Need time to work things out?”

“Yes. No. I mean, yes, but not how you think.”

“Then why don’t you tell me about it?”

“The other night he…Beetle told me— he said that he loves me.” 

“I see,” Marcia raised an eyebrow. 

“I don’t know what to do,” he admitted quietly.

“Why not?”

“How do I make things go back to normal?”

“Is that what you want? Things to be how they were?” She asked.

“What else would I want?”

“I’ve watched you grow up, and I like to think that I know you pretty well. It comes as no surprise to me that you and Beetle are realizing that you want more than friendship, though it seems to be a surprise to you.”

Septimus felt the ground tilt dangerously beneath him again. “What?” He hadn’t considered that he wanted something more with Beetle anymore than he had considered Beetle wanting something more with _him_. 

Marcia smiled at him with the warm patience of a mother trying to explain something very simple to her young child. “Why are you wearing that jacket?”

“Because it’s cold.” Marcia gave him the look she always did when he lied about finishing his reading and spell work. “Because I like it.” Silence. “Because I miss Beetle.” _Try harder,_ Marcia’s smile seemed to say. “Because it reminds me of him and I miss him and I like being the only one he’s ever let wear his precious admiral’s jacket. Because it smells like him and feels like him and it’s like a portable hug.” He admitted irritably. Marcia always had a way of making him say things he hadn’t meant to. Sometimes, as in this case, things he didn’t even know he thought. 

“Well. There you have it.” Marcia patted his knee affectionately and stood up. “Now, go work things out with Beetle and stop acting like a moody teenager before Jenna pushes you out a window.”

“I…It’s late,” Septimus pointed out lamely.

“I’m sure he won’t mind. Now come on, get up.” She helped pull Septimus to his feet.

Septimus was out the door and heading down the stairs before he’d even finished processing everything. His legs felt wobbly and he was jittery with nerves. He liked Beetle. What a simple revelation it was, and what an obvious one. How long had he wanted to be Beetle’s most important person? How had he managed to miss it? How had he still managed to overlook his feelings when they literally punched him in the face?

He rushed the whole way to Beetle’s house, feeling like he was half falling and half flying through the streets, and only paused once he reached the door. He steadied himself, took a deep breath, and knocked.


	5. Beetle

Beetle was, for the second time in recent weeks, forced to put down his book to answer a pounding at his door. It was absurdly late for any normal person to be calling and Beetle was half expecting news of a disaster as he swung open his door. And there, again, was Septimus Heap standing at his threshold. He looked an absolute mess, his hair falling wildly about his shoulders, one trouser leg hiked up further than the other, shirt half tucked, and on top of it all was Beetle’s jacket, rumpled and wrinkled and looking for all the world _just right._

“Come in, then,” Beetle offered, making room for Septimus to step inside. 

“Sorry,” Septimus mumbled as he climbed the few stairs into the dinning area.

“For making a habit of interrupting my evenings?” Beetle asked lightly, following Septimus into the house.

“No—actually, yeah, for that too…But mostly…” He trailed off, his attention caught by the spot at the table previously occupied by Beetle, where his book and reading glasses still sat. “Is that…” A grin slowly spread across Septimus’s face. “Is that pumpkin oatmeal toast?” Beetle flushed, eyes flitting to the incriminating toast. He tried to tell himself that it didn’t mean anything— or, more accurately, that it didn’t matter that it meant something. Sep already knew about the _something_ that it meant.

“And is that my jacket?” Beetle deflected. This time Septimus’s face was the one to heat.

“I thought you said my toast was terrible.”

“It is.”

“Then why’re you eating it?”

“Because you’re not around to torture my tastebuds,” Beetle shrugged, trying for casual, but saw something flit across Sep’s face. Something like guilt. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be. My tastebuds are thanking you, actually.” He laughed awkwardly. “Besides, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have ambushed you like that, I’m—“

“No! Beetle, listen, I’m really sorry about how I reacted. I just— I don’t know, I freaked out. But it was stupid of me to avoid you.” He tugged anxiously at a strand of hair, his eyes landing anywhere and everywhere that wasn’t Beetle.

“That’s alright, Sep, really. I’m just glad you’re here now so we can sort this out.” Beetle wanted nothing more than for this conversation to end, one way or another, as soon as possible and put him out of his misery. This was even worse than his crush on Jenna; she’d always known, sure, but they’d never talked about it until she wanted to date him. Talking about it, he found, was worse than having it be ignored.

“I was scared of things changing for us,” Septimus said quietly. “I was scared that I’d lose you, like I lost Rose once she stopped wanting me. I was scared because there’s really no going back from this, you know? Either things work or they don’t, and I don’t know what I’d do if they don’t. So I ran away from it all…from you. But…” finally Septimus met Beetle’s eyes, “I missed you,” he laughed, tugging at the jacket he wore as if to prove his point.

“I missed you, too,” Beetle gestured at the toast as way of proof.

“Beetle, you’re my best friend, and I don’t want to lose that—”

“I don’t want that either, Sep. I’m sorry about all this stuff, we can just forget about it. I want my best friend back.” Beetle said hurriedly.

“I love you.” It was barely a whisper.

“Huh?”

“You mean everything to me and I didn’t want to risk changing things.” He took a step closer. “But I see now that I was stupid. Beetle, I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.”

Beetle was sure he’d never felt so happy in all his life. His feet carried him forward and his arms engulfed Septimus in an embrace before his brain told them to do so. Septimus laughed, returning the hug full-heartedly. 

“I love you, too.” Beetle breathed into Septimus’s hair. He pulled away just far enough to brush a couple of straw-colored curls out of Septimus’s face and soak up the brilliant smile plastered there. He couldn’t help but let out a happy laugh before leaning in to kiss Septimus on the forehead, then on his nose, then on one cheek—

“You’re ridiculous,” Septimus laughed, pulling away only to come back immediately, brushing his own lips against Beetle’s.

~oOo~

“I suppose I should return your jacket now, huh?” Septimus asked guiltily as he bumbled about in the Kitchen. Beetle yawned, sitting up from the nest in the couch he’d slept on last night and smiled groggily at Septimus.

“Nah, you keep it. I like it much better on you than I ever did on me.”

“But you love this jacket!” Septimus protested.

“Shows how much I love _you_ in it.” 

“You’re a real sap, has anyone ever told you?” But Septimus seemed happy with it.

“Sap, cheesy, corny, a hopeless romantic, I’ve been called just about everything. So what’re you making for breakfast?”

“Something weird.”

“My tastebuds already regret dating you.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make a side of pumpkin toast, too.”

“How comforting,” Beetle griped, though his smile proved that he was far too happy to really be worried about breakfast. Septimus Heap was a lot of things, and a good cook was rarely one of them, but it was all part of his charm. All part of why Beetle loved him.


End file.
